


Tranquility

by ShadeDuelist



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Friendship, Pyromania, possible romantic friendship, smart pyro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 14:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2510366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadeDuelist/pseuds/ShadeDuelist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Engineer is a patient man.  But with such a rowdy team, even his patience runs out.  Faced with little options for doing his work in peace, he finds himself turn to the one teammate that'll possibly allow him into his zone of comfort - and what he gains as a result is far more than anyone ever bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tranquility

**Author's Note:**

> First of a three-story series of shorts that stick as close to canon as possible. This one details how the Engineer and the Pyro came to share a house, as depicted in the 'True Meanings' comic. The other stories in this series, 'Look into my eyes' (or the story of how the Pyrovision goggles were invented) and 'Parting of friends' (or the story of how Pyro became CEO of Frontier Engineering), are available only to the people that support me on Patreon: http://www.patreon.com/shadeduelist

Tranquility (or: the story of how Engineer and Pyro ended up sharing a house) – Team Fortress 2 fan fiction by Shade-Duelist

 

*disclaimer: well, you know, I do not own TF2 or any of the characters in it, nor the weapons they use, the battlegrounds they fight in.  But in here, for a brief moment, I give them voices and thoughts and actions – the thoughts behind _those_ are all mine and you shouldn't try and steal them.  I know how to use an Axtinguisher and a Southern Hospitality, y'all.  Mmmthrrrr hhphhhhrrrthssssh.*

 

“DO NOT TOUCH THAT BUCKET, PRIVATE!”

“Yo, Doe, don't ya go yellin' at _me_!”

“Leetle scout must _move over_ , Sasha does not find this funny!”

“Oi, yeh bloody block'eads!  Moind keepin' it down?!”

It was a typical evening in the RED base at Teufort: noisy, stuffy, the scent of gunpowder wafting in from the opened window and mingling with the smells of burnt food, beer, and sweat.  By now all of the men were so used to it all that it hardly seemed remarkable anymore.  But mealtimes were always a very difficult point of the day, since they were by far the noisiest and stuffiest, the engineer found, but at least there was the smell of food that made up for the added racket.  Pyro cooked for the men – nobody dared deny their team member the one time they could use the stove, not to mention nobody else would be caught dead with the frilly, flowery apron on that said 'kitchen delights' in big bold letters.

“Hmmmth hmmm khhhhmmssh phhhh khhhth?!  Hhhshhhnnnrrrrrr khhhhth thmmmmkh!” (Would you guys be quiet?!  Engineer can't think!)  Pyro's loud but utterly muffled voice came from the kitchen, preceding the masked and _still fully suited_ cook from the kitchen.  Then again, the engineer presumed that it was handier for Pyro to wear his battle gear inside as well, since he – or she, or even _it_ because _nobody_ on the team had ever seen Pyro much outside of battle or the kitchen – managed to burn something every single day.  Once, he'd made a steak spontaneously combust while the Heavy had been holding it; then, there was the time when he'd wanted to make sauce using some of Tavish' scrumpy, which had produced such a fireball that the kitchen cabinets still had sootstains on them.  But even beyond the obvious and necessary fire protection the suit offered the inscrutable person, Pyro seemed to want to keep it on because he genuinely didn't want to show himself.  Their ninth team member seemed to be a very private person, even more so than their spy, which was saying something, the engineer mused.  “Thnnnnrrrr hhsshh shhhrrrphhhth!” (Dinner is served), Pyro announced boldly, putting down a large pot on the table that steamed and smelled like thick, heavy stew once the lid was removed by one of those gloved hands.

“Smells delicious, Pah-ro, what'd yeh make?”, the engineer asked, watching his team mate ladle out   the stew.

“Hhhhthhsshh shhthhhhhvh, hhhthh hhhhshhh shhhhkhhhhnn hnnnn hhhnhhhhnnn hhnn mmmmshrrrrmmsh-” (It's stew, it has chicken and onion and mushrooms-)

“Who even cares what's in it, as long as it's edible?!”, the scout said loudly, grabbing the plate that Pyro had been holding from his gloved hands and provoking a stream of muffled, high-pitched vocalizations to pour from the gas mask filter.

“Shkhhhhth!  Hhhh nnnnnth thhh vhhhhth hhrrrr thhhrrrrnnn!  Shhhthh hhrrrr hhhssshhh thhhvhnnn rrrrkhth nnnnvh hhhnn khhhhvhhh thhhhth phhhhth thh Hhhhnkhhhhnnnrrrrr, hhhh hhhthhhhhth!!” (Scout!  You need to wait your turn!  Sit your ass down right now and give that plate to Engineer, you idiot!!)

 _“Ooohoohoohoohoooooo_ , I think I upset the freak!”, the scout said – the engineer meant to react and tell the boy not to upset their fire-starting colleague, but then, from _out of nowhere_ , it seemed, the suited figure produced his fireaxe and placed the edge of it on the side of the scout's neck.

“Thhhnnthh phhhh shmmmmrrrth vhhhth mmmmh, Shkhhhth!  Phhhth thhh Hhhnkhhhhnnnnrrr, rrrrkhth thhhmmm nnnvh.  Hhhhrrr khhhthhhnnn hhhrrr phhhhth hhhhshhhth.” (Don't be smart with me, Scout!  Plate to Engineer, right damn now.  You're getting your plate last.)  Instantly, the table went deathly quiet – not even the drunk burps of Tavish could be heard – and slowly, begrudgingly, the youngest of the team pushed the plate towards the engineer, who nodded and turned to his food, hearing the pyro put the fireaxe away again and go back to ladling out the stew.  After he'd ladled out a portion for the scout, he scooped a small measure of the food on a separate plate patterned with delicate flowers around the edges and then stalked off, still wearing the apron, at which moment the atmosphere around the table relaxed again and the men went back to their rowdy discussions.  The engineer heaved a sigh as he got elbowed in the ribs a couple of times by the medic, who was sitting to his right, as the man was apparently trying to keep the scout from stealing his portion.

“Yo, Deutsch-bag, ya ain't gonna eat all'a that anyway!  _Ouch_!  What the hell was _that crap?!_ ”

“You are tryink my pazhience!”

“Tiny scout is upsetting Sasha again!”

It was a typical evening in the RED base at Teufort, but the engineer quietly mused that he longed for an atypical evening now more than ever.  He'd pay good money for one evening where everyone could be quiet and just let him eat his meal and do his finetuning in peace.

“'Ey fellers?  Fellers?”  Evening came, and the engineer found that somehow, the Pyro's stew seemed to have given the men even more energy than they usually had.  Or, at least, it had made them _seem_ louder to him.  In the showers, the Heavy was singing something loudly; and the scout and the soldier were watching a baseball match and cheering for their team at the top of their lungs in the small television room, which just happened to be next to the engineer's workshop-and-bedroom.  Every time he was calculating another equation, a shout from the next room made him fumble, to the point where he'd had to restart _three times_ already.  Heaving a heavy sigh, he went to the other room to ask the men to be quiet, but now found them so absorbed that they didn't even hear him.  “FELLERS!!”, he shouted, and the soldier turned to him with a somewhat dismissive handwave.

“In a minute, Engie, they're about to-”

“Aw hell – Soldier, Scout, ah'm tryin' tuh work on mah sentry-”

“Yeah, yeah...”, the scout cut him off with the same dismissive handwave as the soldier had used only a few seconds before him, adding: “Why don'tcha relax, brotha, an' have a beer?  Watch the game?”

“'Cause mah sentry nearly got mowed down tuhday, an' ah can't risk havin' it give out t'morrah, son – now, could the two'a yeh-”

“OH YEAH!”, the scout cheered as one of the men on the field made a spectacular save, and the soldier cheered along as well twice as loudly.

“THAT is how it is DONE, son!!”  Groaning, the engineer went back into the hallway, looking around and considering whether there was a quiet place where he could do his work.  For a second, he considered going to the medic of their team, but the man was either irritated or... eerily _psychotic_ , and Engineer didn't want any of that.  Heavy was still in the shower, judging by the loud singing; Demoman was either drunk or drinking; and the sniper would never allow anyone in his camper van unless the base was on fire – and even then, he'd probably only allow one of them on there begrudgingly.  That left the spy and Pyro – but neither option seemed very good.  The spy never made it a secret that his eight colleagues disgusted him, especially the sniper who 'throws piss at people and lives in a van' and the pyro who was 'a mumbling abomination with dreams of chronic and sustained cruelty': he wouldn't tolerate his company, even if it was only to work on his equations.  Pyro... he didn't know much about, he mused.  All he _did_ know was that he, or she or it, was _very_ secretive, that not even the spy knew his true identity – and the spy kept tabs on _all of them_ both for professional and personal reasons – and that he had his bedroom in the back of the base, in a tiny little cubbyhole of a room.  And, he added, that he was fire-crazy.  If given the chance, the man, or woman, or... whatever lurked behind that mask... would light _anything and anyone_ up like a Christmas tree.

“...Naw...”, he muttered to himself, turning back to head into his room, but five minutes and just as many loud, rowdy shouts from the soldier and the scout later, he'd grabbed his blueprints and his satchel and was stomping down the hallway.  He'd risk it.  Knocking on the pyro's door, however, he felt a little less secure with himself.  After all, Pyro's room was _tiny_ compared to the rooms the rest of them had, and the inscrutable person in the suit was nothing short of _manic_ on the battlefield and in the kitchen, completely devoted to the task at hand and not minding who stood in their way.  In fact, the engineer mused, sometimes they stood over their victims, listening to the breathing as it died away, _giggling madly_... and then there was the case of that Director the Administrator had once sent them, who had mysteriously disappeared after they'd interviewed Pyro...  “Aw hell...”, he groaned, shaking his head.  Pyro was a lot of things – potentially unbalanced to the point of bloodthirst and pyromania, unknown and vicious on the battlefield – but he didn't seem to be hostile towards the team, save for a few hits with wooden spoons on the heads of those that dared peek in the pots and pans while he, or she, or it, was still cooking – and those could hardly count since the engineer would hit the men that were foolish enough to try his patience in the same way if _he_ were the team cook.

“Hmmm?” (Yeah?)  The soft mumble at the door preceded its opening, and a large lens of the protective mask became visible through the sliver of the room that was revealed.  She – or he or it – still wore the fireproof suit but had thrown on a large, pink, flowery nightgown over it and had fastened a frilly bonnet over the gas mask, giving off the impression of a twisted, overgrown baby.  Then, with a sound that could be either a sigh or a gasp: “...Hhhnnkhhnnnrrrrr?” (Engineer?)

“Uh, yeah, good evenin' there, Pah-ro... p-pardner, ah s'pose ah couldn't come sit in yer room fer a li'l?  They're bein' rowdy- _Whooaa!_ ”  Before he could properly finish his sentence, the door opened a little wider and a gloved hand reached out, pulling him into the room and quickly closing the door behind him before bursting into a long string of utterly muffled words.

“Hhh vhhhsh hhhphnnnn phrrrr hh vhhhshhhhth!  Hhh vhsssh phhnnnn hh hmmmthmmm hmmmnnn... hhhthshhhh shhhhh phhrrrrnnn phhhnnnnn hhhh hmmmnnn...  Hhh vhhsshh shhhmmmnnnkh khrrrrrshhhvhhhrrrth phhhhshhhmsh hmmn shhhthhhkhhh phhhshhhmsh – vhhhnnn thhh mnnnn thhh?  Hhhn hhhshhh mnnn thhh khhth vhhhrrrmmpth hhhph?  Thhmmmkh hhphhhth shhhhthrrrrrn thhhrrrmmm?  Hhhrrrr shhhh shhhmmmmrrrrth, hmmm phhhth hmmm khnnnnvh _hhhhmm hhphhhhth_ shhthrrrrnn thhhrrrmmm-”  (I was hoping for a visit!  I was feeling a little bored... it's so boring being all alone...  I was solving crossword puzzles and sudoku puzzles – wanna do one too?  An easy one to get warmed up?  Talk about string theory?  You're so smart, I'll bet you know _all about_ string theory-)  Engineer cut him off with a soft touch of the figure's shoulder, which instantly halted the stream of sounds issuing from its gas mask filter.  It allowed him a second to gather his own thoughts while looking around the room.  It was just as small as he'd gathered – the pyro's bed, desk and cupboard left barely any room to move – but what little room the person had was _wallpapered_ with what appeared to be drawings depicting bright, childish, almost _exuberant_ scenes of fantasy and sunshine.  A meadow where candy canes grew like trees from the ground, a big rainbow-shooting gun made of organ pipes, a box that radiated bubbles and dispensed sweets... and then, at the center of it all, over the pyro's bed, a drawing of what appeared to be their team _as animals_ , with the scout as a hare, the sniper as a stork, himself as a big bumblebee, and the pyro... with a blank face.  Dressed in pretty clothes, sure enough, but with a face that looked like it had been blanked out by a large dollop of white paint, as if he'd drawn herself and then was thoroughly unpleased by the result.  And the bookcase next to the pyro's bed was _filled to the brim_ with _University Press_ books on mathematics, science, literature, art and aesthetics, linguistics, sociology, psychology – that one looked like a couple of pages had been torn out, probably in denial of some disorders – and then a shelf filled with puzzle books and coloring books.  “Hhhh?”  (Huh?)  Pyro's muffled sound drew him back to the matter at hand, however, and he shook his head slowly before gathering his thoughts again.

“Uh, s- ah mean, Pah-ro?  Maybe we kin talk 'bout string theory an' puzzles some other day...”, the engineer said, giving a half-smile to his teammate – when he sighed, he was quick to pat the pyro on the shoulder.  “...C'mon now, Pah-ro, pardner, don't let tha' git'cha down.  Ah've gotta work on mah sentry – figure out how tuh better divide th'stress on 'er-”

“Khhnnn hhhh hhhph?” (Can I help?), Pyro asked, causing the engineer to blink and the masked figure to add: “Hhh hhhvhhhsh vhhhthshhhh hrrrr shhhthrrrr hhhnnn khhhkhnnnth hhhtshhh phrrrrphvhrrrrr hnnn phhhthhhh... hhhth hhhphhh thhh hhhph hhhh, Hhhnshhhhh... hhh, mmmh, hhh thhhnnnth mmmmnth mmm khhhnnnn hhh 'Hhnshhhh', thhh hhh?”  (I always watch your sentry and calculate its firepower in battle... I'd love to help you, Engie... oh, uh, you don't mind me calling you 'Engie', do you?)  He couldn't help but stare at the figure in the most ridiculous sleeping garb he'd ever seen – a flowery, frilly bonnet and nightgown over a fireproof uniform – that had just admitted to not only watch his sentry with interest, but _scientific_ interest at that.

“...Pardner, are yeh...  Are yeh sure?  Ah mean, this ain't no simple maths that ah'm doin' here-”

“Hhh, Hh khnnnvh!  Hhh hhhvhhh hhh shhhhnnnkhh!  Phrrrthhhmm thhphhrrrrnnnthhmm hhhkhvhhhhthhnnnnshh?  Thrrrr-thhmmmshhnnnmm mmmthrrrrshhhsh?”  (Oh, I know!  I love a challenge!  Partial differential equations?  Three-dimensional matrices?)  Each next word baffled the engineer more and more – the pyro seemed to _know_ what he talked about.  “Hhhnshhhh, phmmmsh shhhh hhh khhnnn hhhhmph!  _Phmmmmmmmmsh..._ ” (Engie, please say I can help!  _Pleeeeaaaase..._ )

“Well, uh, y'can watch.  An' if yeh wanna help, yew can... though I ain't sure-”, he started, only to get cut off by the masked figure as well.

“Hhhmmmmmrrrmmmmmth!!  Hmmm mmmnnth rrrkhrrrrth hhth!  Phmmmshhh, shhhth thhhnnn... mmhkh hhrrrshhhph hhth hmmmm...”  (Awright!!  You won't regret it!  Please, sit down... make yourself at home...)  The mumbles the masked figure voiced were soft, but the tone of them was undeniable even though the gas mask filter deformed the sound of the words so much that the engineer barely understood what they meant.  Pyro was grateful – very grateful for his company and the opportunity to see him at work – and that, more than anything else, brought a grin to his stubbly, weather-worn features.

“...Awrighty then, Pah-ro, pardner, let's see what we kin make'a this t'gether...”

“Sentry, comin' up!”, the engineer said loudly as he placed his toolbox on the ground near the entrance to their base, watching as the automated construction process took place.  He'd spent most of the evening calculating a better stress division of his sentry – with some help from Pyro, who admittedly had made some valid, sensible comments and who had even pointed out a less strenuous way to calculate the position of some of the parts – and then three hours revising his sentry until each of its three stages was optimized.  “...Now let's see y'at work, li'l beauty...”, he said to the small turret, stroking the shiny outer casing lovingly, grinning as it beeped as if to reply to him.  They had a long day of battles coming up, and the enemy team seemed extra fierce if the sounds of battle were anything to go by, so he wasted no time in sifting through his construction blueprints and selecting the dispenser.  “...An' we build a dispenser-”

“Yo, hardhat, mind puttin' ya dispensah somewhere it'll _help the team_ for once?”, the scout said, prompting a groan from the Texan.

“Son, yew'd best not be tryin' mah patience t'day... ah don't have time fer complaints.  'Sides, it ain't gonna help yeh much yet, 's still a first stage dispenser-”

“Okay, okay, I'm goin', I didn't need no ten minute lecture, egghead!”, the scout scoffed, running off down the corridor and down the stairway leading to the sewers and leaving the engineer to his own devices again.  Heaving a sigh, the Texan leaned against his newly constructed dispenser, idly running a gloved finger over the cold outer casing while pondering how utterly rude and disrespectful the scout always was.  Normally, it didn't bother him all that much, but that day seemed to be one of those days where his patience was limited right from the very start.

“Damn jackrabbit'f a boy... just 'cause ah've got a couple'a degrees 's not make me an 'egghead'...  Ah well, best start tunin' 'er up...”, he said, taking his wrench from his pocket and aiming a few hits at the metal casing, which made the machinery underneath whir.  Finally, after a few more hits, the small gun rattled and shifted, dual machine guns revealing themselves besides the metal casing.  “There y'go, li'l beauty, knew y'could do it!  ...Okay, let's see 'ere now...”, he added, turning instead to his dispenser, which he prodded and pushed into upgrading itself in much the same way.  However, just when he'd turned back to his sentry, he noticed that the machinery underneath didn't respond, and he patted down his sides only to find that the pouch on his belt, which was usually filled to the brim with spare screws and replacement parts was empty.  “...Aw, darn.  Well, best git me some more from one'a the supply cabinets... closest one's jus' a short distance away...”, he mused, taking his shotgun from the spot against the wall where he'd put it and checking to see it was loaded before setting off to the small resupply room where a supply cabinet stood that held the extra parts he needed to make the machinery work again.  Minor interruptions in his construction work like that weren't uncommon, though it hadn't happened for a while anymore before that day, mostly because his dispenser kept him provided of all the supplies he needed, but the scout had distracted him and he hadn't been able to upgrade it quickly enough.

It took him maybe one minute to get to the resupply room, and after that it took barely another minute to walk over to the supply cabinet and find the small box with spare parts and tools that he kept handy for occasions like that one.  Picking it up and depositing the contents of it into his tool pouch, he found the box glow eerily as he closed the cabinet doors again.  He didn't understand how all of the systems worked at times, but he _did_ know that the glow meant there'd be a new cache of spare parts there, waiting for him, if he needed them.

He was three paces away from his sentry when he passed the soldier in the hallway.  Jane Doe's boots were smouldering slightly, as they sometimes did to indicate he'd once again taken a crazy risk and launched himself across the battlefield with one of his own rockets, and there was a slight trickle of blood issuing from under his helmet, but he didn't sound even the least bit wounded when he barked out.

“Engineer, get that dispenser upgraded and installed closer to the battlefield!”

“Ah'll be there when yew guys make the push.”, the Texan said softly, running into the room where he'd left his sentry and dispenser, finding the sentry beep at his entrance before turning away again to scan the rest of the room.  As he took up his spot between his dispenser and the sentry gun again, gently setting down his shotgun against the rectangular metal frame of the former, he shook his head.  Sometimes the soldier's zeal seemed to be _extra_ annoying to him, just like the scout's eagerness had been before, despite his larger-than-usual tolerance for his fellow Americans.  'Ah well, 'nother few hits with this 'ere wrench an' he kin _have_ 'is here dispenser...', he mused as he set to work on the sentry first: in no time at all, the rocket launcher addition was firmly fixed at the top of the metal casing and the sentry was already scanning his surroundings again, beeping three times on each sweep of the quarter of the room it protected and causing the engineer to sigh as he turned to his dispenser instead.  Just in time, too, for the soldier came running inside to him, scowling at him as if mentally berating him for working on his sentry gun first and not the dispenser.

A glimmer caught the corner of his eye, however, before he'd fully turned his back, and as he turned back around, he found his sentry gun unresponsive and a butterfly knife barely missing his shoulder.  The movement had him stagger back against his dispenser, knocking away his shotgun and forcing him to instead grab his pistol.  The enemy spy had been posing as Soldier, he realized – but with that realization came the knowledge that he was as good as lost as well.  His pistol wouldn't be able to stop the man, and the sapper he'd placed on the sentry was slowly but surely causing its internal mechanisms to overheat.  Smoke already rose from its outer casing in a small but definite plume, indicating the electrical overload was frying all the sensitive circuitry on the inside of his machine.

“Ahaha, laborer, dis seems to be zee end of you...”, the Frenchman said, slowly taking out his large revolver and loading it with a single bullet with graceful movements, almost mockingly so, before taking aim with equal grace and then-  “AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!”  The engineer had been expecting a lot of things, but not for the man to drop his revolver and run away at top speed, his suit having ignited and burning like a wildfire, revealing the muzzle of a familiar flamethrower held by an even more familiar teammate.

“Phhhkhssshh hhhrrrr shhhnnthrrrrmm, khvhhhkhhmm!” (Fix your sentry, quickly!), the pyro bellowed at him – it took a while for the engineer to catch on, but when he did demolish the sapper and started to repair the damage it had done, he was finally able to shake off his utter surprise in favor of deep and abiding gratitude.

“...Pah-ro, pardner, yeh saved me-”

“Hhh khnnnth vhhhhthshhh hmmm khmmm hhhh, Hhhnnnshhhhh... nnnnth hhhh ph-phrrrrnnth hhhkh hhhh...” (I couldn't watch him kill you, Engie... not a f-friend like you...), the masked figure admitted, and the engineer found himself relaxing again, smiling generously.

“Hell, y'did real great, Pah-ro – an' yeh know we're friends.  Ah've got'cher back jus' like y'got mah back.  ...Wanna stay fer a li'l?  Have a beer, watch the ol' sentry rack up a few shots at tha' there BLU spah?”, he suggested, aiming another hit at the dispenser that just happened to cause it to rattle and the heartrate monitor he'd built into it to appear to show that it was fully equipped.  Then, with a look at the pyro's gas mask, he grinned and tacked on: “Heck, ah'd even build yeh a straw so y'could drink without takin' tha' there gas mask off-”

“Hhhrrrmmth!  Hhhth mmmphh thhhhth, Hhnnnshhhh!”  (Awright!  I'd love that, Engie!)  Chuckling and taking out two cold beers from one of his spare toolboxes, the engineer leaned against his dispenser, his wrench in his hand, his mind half focused on the sentry and the way it scanned the room and the other half of his mind fully devoted on his newfound friend and the way he clearly looked at his equipment with interest, mumbling almost inaudibly to himself.

It somehow developed into a steady routine, the engineer found: during their battles, the pyro would alternate between taking the lead in assaults for the enemy intelligence and doubling back to check on him.  The enemy spy hadn't been able to make it any closer than two feet from him for an entire week without either being burnt to a crisp by the firestarter or by being shot to a bloodspattered mess by his sentry.  In the end, Engineer could hardly blame him for trying different approaches – but the pyro had been wise to each and every one of them, and he'd taught the rest of the team the rudimentary basics of how to distinguish whether someone was really their teammate or just the BLU spy in disguise.  So far, the spy had tried to impersonate Medic – that disguise hadn't lasted long, since the engineer had shot him the moment he'd refused to heal him – Pyro – _that_ disguise had lasted even less long than the Medic disguise, as the engineer was alerted when Pyro didn't greet him like he usually did – and even had tried his hand at impersonating his team's spy.  However, in the end, the French deceiver had just started avoiding finding himself face-to-face with either him or his friend.

The daily battle routine was matched by a nightly routine as well, the Texan mused with a soft smile: he'd taken to going to Pyro's small room for doing his calculations, relishing in the muffled remarks and half-intelligible conversations the fire expert offered him.  So far, they'd had discussions about the easiest ways to solve crossword puzzles, discussions on what string theory could mean for future science, and a lengthy talk about why Pyro had drawn the team as animals and why he thought their animal form was fitting.  At first, Engineer had to admit, it had been difficult for him to fully understand the masked figure's words, but now it became easier and easier to understand him and even to pick up on the emotion behind the words as well.  A sigh had just been an exhale at first, but now he could tell whether the person behind the mask was tired, upset, angry, or just happy.

Mostly the sighs were _happy_ sighs, the engineer thought with a grin.  'Pah-ro seems t'be glad tha' he's gittin' someone t'talk tuh... an' hell, ah can't blame 'im, must be lonely always shyin' 'way from the rest'a us mercs...'  He didn't know why the pyro felt the need to hide herself – or himself – but he knew better than to pressure his friend into revealing more than he felt comfortable with.  It was more than enough for him that the pyro had let him into his room and subsequently into his circle of trust-

“Hhnnnshhhh?  Hhhrrrr phhhnnnn thhhsshthrrrrkhhhth...” (Engie?  You're being distracted...)  The voice, muffled by the black mask, sounded worried more than anything, and the engineer blinked, shaking his head and giving the other person a shy grin.

“Ah, shucks, Pah-ro, yeh're ontuh me... ah were jus' thinkin' yeh're mighty kind fer lettin' me work in yer room.”

“Sssh nnthhhnnnnkh – hhhh mmmkh hhhphhhnnnn hhhh hrrrrr vhhhth mmmh!”  ('s nothing – I like having you here with me!), the pyro responded, nodding eagerly before motioning for a newer drawing among the multitude of drawings that depicted him and the pyro side by side, being healed by a dispenser, with a fire by their side.  “Hhh shhhh?  Thhhthsh thhhh shphmm!  Hmhmhmhmhmhm...” (You see?  That's the spy!  Hehehehehehe...)  Though the chuckle was a little unnerving, Engineer smiled broadly at the image.  The pyro was in full battle gear and no more recognizable as in any of the other drawings, but that was okay, he found himself thinking.

“Shhhmm, Hhhnnshmmm?  ...Vhmmm thhhnnth hhh khhh shmmmmvhrrrrr hhshh?”  (Say, Engie?  Why don't you go somewhere else?)

“Whuh?”, the engineer asked, caught off guard by the question, though he smiled again a second later.  “Pah-ro, pardner, if'n yeh're gittin' bored of mah comp'ny...”  The masked figure clearly didn't fully understand the concept of 'teasing', he found, because no sooner had he stopped talking than a _stream_ of muffled apologies and explanations ensued.

“Nnhhh, nhhh, nnnth hhhth hhhmmm!  Hhhh mmmph hhhrrr khmmmphnnnmm!  Hhhrrr khrrrrth, hhnnn shmmmrrrth, phrrrrvhhh, hhnthshmmmm, phrrnnnthmmm...  Hhh mmnth vhhmmm thhhh hhh shthhhh hhnnn thhhh phhhhsh...  Hhh khhhth phrrrr hh thrrrnnshphrrrrr hhhnnvhrrrrr – thh Thhhshhhthphmmm, thhh Phrrnnnnthhrrrr, thh Vhhhthhhkhth... hhrrrr hhphnnn khmmmshrrrr thh hmmm, thh Thrrrphnnnn!  Hh hrrrth thrrrrshh hhphnnnn vhmmmnnn phmmmthnnn, khnnn hhh hmmmkhnnnn?” (No, no, not at all!  I love your company!  You're great, and smart, brave, handsome, friendly...  I meant why do you stay on the base... you could ask for a transfer anywhere – the Dustbowl, the Frontier, the Viaduct... or even closer to home, the Turbine!  I heard there's even women fighting, can you imagine?)  It had been a little too fast for the engineer to understand every nuance, but the masked figure seemed to understand as much as well, because it followed up its own words softly with an addition: “Nnnth thhhth hhh thnnnnth hmmmkh thhhhth hhh shthhhh hrrrr, vhhhth mhh... phhth hhh khhhhth vhhrrrrkh shhh mmshh phhhthrrrr shmmmvhrrrrr hhhmshhh...” (Not that I don't like that you stay here, with me... but you could work so much better somewhere else...)

“Yeh think I oughta... ask fer a transfer?”, the engineer asked, nonplussed.  If he was completely honest, it wasn't the first time he'd considered taking a transfer.  But he'd never made it as far as printing the application form, finding a sound reason not to pursue the initial drive every time.  He sighed and voiced that to his newfound friend: “...Yeah, but if'n ah transfer outta here, there's some other sorry mother hubbard tha''s gittin' transferred over 'ere, an' ah don't wanna do tha' to a fellow engineer, y'see...”

“Mmmhmm, hhh shhhh...” (Mmhmm, I see...), the pyro reacted softly.  For a while, everything was quiet in the small room again – the masked figure didn't start on a new puzzle and the engineer didn't return to his equations just yet – but then, just as suddenly as Pyro's first had spoken up, he did so again, his voice just as excited as that first comment.  “...Hhhnn vhhhth hphhhhth hmmmshhth khhhhnnnn hhhth hhph hhhrrrr rhhmmmm?  Thhhrrrrrsh phmmmthhh hhph rrrmmm thhhvvhn thh rrrrth phrrrrr hhh hhhhhshhh – hhhn vhhhth hrrrr shkhhhmm hhhth phhhhnthhnnnn hhhnnn thhhshhhnnnnhhnnn, hhhhh khhhhth phhhhmth hhh hhhhshh hhhnnn nnnhh thhmmmm!”  (...And what about just going out of your room?  There's plenty of room down the road for a house – and with your skill at building and designing, you could build a house in no time!)

“Hell, buildin' a house fer mahself?”, the engineer said, utterly dumbfounded by the thought.  It wasn't as radical as a transfer, and the pyro did have a point in that there was more than enough room for a house down the road – the company did own all of the land, after all, so they wouldn't object if he built a house for himself so he could improve his work in peace and quiet – but the thought of explaining it to his teammates wasn't particularly happy.  “...Well, ah ain't 'gainst it, that's fer sure...”, he muttered to himself – the pyro caught his words and chuckled softly, the sound muffled by his gas mask, before speaking on again.

“Hmhmhmhm...  Hhhmm shthhmmm phhh khmmmshh thhh thhh phhhshh, hhhhmmm shthhmmm phhh hhhphmm thhh hhhth vhhhth hhhhshh h-hphh hhhh vhhnnnth thhh... hhhnnn hhhph hhh phhhmmth mmmkh hhhth, hhhh khnnnn hhhhmmphhhhsh khmmm vhhrrrrkh hhhrrr!”  (Hehehehe... you'll still be close to the base, you'll still be able to eat with us i-if you want to... and if you would like it, you can always come work here!)

“Why, that's mighty kind'a yew, Pah-ro, pardner!”, the engineer admitted, grinning from ear to ear.  “...Truth be told, though, ah feel kind'f bad fer considerin' it, yeh clearly like mah visits-”

“Hhhh _mmmmph_ hhhrrrr vhhhshhhthsssshh!”  (I _love_ your visits!), the masked figure corrected him before giving him a tight, clearly emotional hug and giving a sigh that sounded both overjoyed and somewhat rueful.  “...Hhhmmm mmmshh hhhh, phhhth hhhsssh phrrrr thhh phhhsshth...  Hhhmm... hh hhphhh hhh thnnnth mmmnthh, phhhth hhhh thrrrvh hhh thhhshh...” (I'll miss you, but it's for the best... Uhm... I hope you don't mind, but I drew you this...), it then said, handing a small cardboard tube to the engineer, instantly turning to his puzzle again the moment he'd given the item away, clearly hiding himself just in case his mask didn't hide all of his emotions.  However, over the course of the days, the engineer had become adept at reading the masked mysterious person, and he could tell by the tension in those shoulders and the way she held the pen that the pyro's nerves were in overdrive.  Smiling softly, he opened the cardboard cylinder and shook out the several papers rolled up inside it to reveal, to his utmost surprise, perfectly drawn and very neatly explained building blueprints, complete with a fence and a mailbox.  The handwriting was just as meticulous as his own, the lines drawn neatly and with clear dedication, and the technical information one hundred percent accurate – all in all, it was clear that the pyro had some kind of architectural insight.

“...Pah-ro, this's... this's amazin', how'd yew-”, the engineer started, only for the pyro to shrug and answer, his voice soft and _bashful_ for once.

“Hhh mmmkh thrrrvhnnn... thhhthshhh hhhmmm...”  (I like drawing... that's all...)  Then, however, after perhaps a split second's hesitation, he got his usual energy back: “...Shhhh, thhh hhmmm hmmmkh hhhhth?  Hhhhthshhh khhth hhh mmmth hphh rrmmshh, phrrr vhhshhhthrrsh... hhnnnth hhh khhhthshnnn phrrr vhnnnn hhh vhnnnth thhh khhhkh shmmmthnnnn nnnnshh...  Hhnnn, hhph khrrrrshh, hhh phhhkh shthhhhhthhhh phrrrr hhhrrr vhrrrkh!”  (So, do you like it?  It's got a lot of rooms, for visitors... and a kitchen for when you want to cook something nice...  And, of course, a big study for your work!)

“Heh, ah kin see tha'.  Yeh really put a lot'a work in 'is, didn't yeh, Pah-ro?”, the Texan asked, smiling and patting the masked figure on the shoulder, prompting a soft giggle and an answer spoken in a very emotional tone.

“Hrhrhrh... hhhsh, hh hmmmthmm, phhhthsh hhhmmrrrmkhth, hhhthsh phrrr hmmm hhphthrrrr hmmm...” (Hoohoohoo... yes, a little, but 's allright, it's for you after all...)  He – or she, or it – turned back to the sudoku puzzle in earnest then, still softly giggling every few seconds and idly running a big gloved hand over the gas mask, over the cheeks, giving the engineer time to check the building blueprints a little more in-depth.  The longer he looked them over, the more he marvelled at how flawlessly they'd been drafted, how incredibly accurate the pyro's calculations had been and how thorough her research had been... and the more he found that he could actually see himself build the house and live in it...

“Yew guys, ah've got an 'nouncement fer y'all!”, the engineer said loudly the next day at breakfast.  The medic and the spy looked at him with mild curiosity, and the pyro's unreadable expression turned his way showing attention as well, but the others, especially the soldier and the scout, kept roughhousing and arguing, so it was hardly surprising for the stout Texan to repeat his statement a little more loudly: “Ah said ah've got an 'nouncement fer y'all!!”  When the majority of men persisted in paying no attention to him, the engineer meant to slam his fist down on the table, but he was beaten to it by the pyro, who nearly split the table in half when she swung its fireaxe into it.

“KHHHHMMMMMSHHH!!  HMMMMSHHHTHNNNN THHHH HHNNNSHHHHMM PHRRRR KHHMMMTHSHH SHHHMMKH!!”  (GUYS!!  LISTEN TO ENGIE FOR GOD'S SAKE!!)  The scout nearly leapt back through the wall, the demoman raised his head from the table as if stung, and the soldier readjusted his helmet hastily to hide just how startled he was.  The three all glared at the pyro as she pulled its fireaxe free again, after which he spoke: “Hhnnshhhhm, hmmm hhrrrrsh...” (Engie, all yours...)

“Yeah, thank yeh kindly, pardner.  Like ah were sayin', ah've got an 'nouncement fer y'all.  The las' few weeks, ah've been havin' some troubles workin' on mah blueprints after battle.”

“Told ya, hardhat, ya just need ta relax some more!”, the scout interrupted, but the medic elbowed him in the ribs before motioning to Engineer that he could continue.

“...So ah've been usin' Pah-ro's hospitality fer a bit, but ah can't keep on intrudin' on mah fellow team member's space.  So when he s'gested ah build mahself a house a li'l further down the road an' move on outta this base-”

“You wanna move _outta the base?!_ ”, the scout asked in clear surprise, and the engineer sighed.

“Yeah.  Ah need _peace an' quiet_ fer mah work, and 'm not gittin' those here.  Pah-ro suggested me buildin' mah own house down the road, at walkin' distance from the base, an' ah've gotta say, it ain't a bad idea.”

“Well, as sorry as I vill be to haff one of my finest speci- I mean, _Freunde_ , move out of zhis base, zhat... does seem like a good idea, herr Engineer.”, the medic said, and the sniper rolled his eyes.

“Foinally caught on that this lot are jus' bloody tossahs?”

“But... but... you cannot move out of this base, private!”, the soldier said somewhat angrily, causing the Engineer to sigh in frustration and place one hand in his side, looking at the fully uniformed man in clear challenge.

“Why's that, Soldier?”

“The... the enemy Spy could capture you and torture you for information!  Yeah...  It is _not_ safe for you away from us, and you are _not –_ I repeat, _NOT –_ to move out of this base, do you understand?!”, he said.  The engineer rolled his eyes – sure, the war was fierce, but not to the point where _torture_ would be involved, though the soldier did have a point about the base being safer.  However, the next sane remark came from none other than the pyro, who had been listening to the soldier's argument with the fingertips of his his gloved hands nervously pressed together.

“Shhhh hhhph hhhhsh nnnth hmmmnnn hnnn hhhsh nnnvh hhhhmshhh, thnnnn thrrrsh nnnn phrrrphmmm?”  (So if he's not alone in his new house, then there's no problem?), the asked the soldier, who nodded, at which point the pyro clapped her hands gleefully and loudly added: “Khrrrrrmmth!  Hhh-”  (Great!  I-)

“But who's gonna wanna live in one house with you, ya egghead?”, the scout said – the pyro's words were ignored by all.

“Hhh vhnnnnm.”  (I wanna.)

“Do _not_ call him an _egghead,_ private!”, the soldier loudly answered, causing the engineer to groan and look helplessly at the pyro, whose hands shook ever so delicately as he spoke a little more loudly, though to no avail.

“Hmmm hmmmphhh vhhhth Hhnnnshhh!”  (I'll live with Engie!)

“Per'aps zee Engineer needs to 'ave a leetle more-”

“ _GHHHWTH THMMNNNNNTH, VHHHMMTH HHHH PHMMMMSSHHH SHHHHTH HHHPH?!  HHH SHHHTH HHHMMM HMMMPHHH VHHHTH HHNNNSHHNNNRRR!!  HHHPH HHH SHPHHHHH THHHRRRNNSSH HHHPH, HHHHSHH KHNNNNHH VHHHSHHH HHH VHSHHH NNNPHRRR PHRRRNM!”  (GOD DAMMIT, WILL YOU PLEASE SHUT UP?!  I SAID I'LL LIVE WITH ENGINEER!!  IF A SPY TURNS UP, HE'S GONNA WISH HE WAS NEVER BORN!)_ , Pyro all but shouted, instantly causing the entire group to fall quiet, Engineer included.  He was the first one to speak up again, remarkably enough.

“...Pah-ro, yeh mean tha'?”

“Mmmhmm!”, the pyro said, nodding so eagerly that the leather of its gas mask creaked softly.

“Well, then, ah'd love t'have yeh livin' in mah new home when it's built!”  The pyro's soft giggles and somewhat happy mutters had the others shaking off their stupor as well, though only the soldier seemed to have objections to voice.

“But Pyro can't move out of this base, he is our designated cook!”

“ _Hmph, khhhkh phrrrr hhhrrrshmmmph, Shmmmthrrrr!_ ”  _(Hmph, cook for yourself, Soldier!_ ) _,_ the masked figure mumbled in reply, and the engineer grinned as he translated the words into a more agreeable meaning so as to not upset the other men.

“Looks like yeh're gon' have tuh learn how t'cook, Solly...”

“REAL MEN don't do something as _deplorable and female_ as COOKING!”, the man instantly bellowed, which for some reason caused the pyro to giggle loudly and the rest of the men to glare at the soldier, indicating that they had all, at some point or other, cooked for themselves.

“You vill haff to learn, herr Doe, or you vill _shtarve_.  Ve are _not_ feedink you.”

“Da!  Little American soldier not getting my food!”, the heavy tacked on, and while the rest of the men argued, the medic turned to the engineer.

“Mein friend, off course you vill shtill visit zhese halls, right?”

“Ah'm movin' outta base, ah'm not _quittin'_ , doc.”  Grinning, the engineer gently nudged the pyro with his elbow to draw the figure's attention.  “...Pardner, looks like we've got ourselves some plannin' tuh do.”

“Hmhm, hhhmmrrrrhhkhth!” (Hehe, allright!), came the soft-spoken but enthusiastic answer, and the two started discussing the materials they'd need and how best to approach the company for approval as they walked to the battlegrounds together.

It turned out that the hardest part for building his own house, Engineer mused months later as he sat in front of the open fire in his house, had been obtaining the company's permission.  There had been hundreds of questions asked – why do you need to move out of base?  Who will be going along?  Where will you get the material and who will fund it?  Who designed the house?  Where will it be located?  How will you arrange your attendance in battle? - and then hundreds of papers to sign and fill in, most of them waivers of liability and papers that threatened to sue a lot of people in case things went horribly wrong.  And one of them, surprisingly enough, had been a _non-disclosure agreement_ on Pyro's identity and whereabouts.  He'd tried to talk his way around that one, saying that he didn't know the firebug's identity, but miss Pauling had insisted and he'd ended up signing it to save the little wisp of a lady a nervous breakdown.

So far, however, he failed to see the need for those papers.  His sentries had never performed better, what with all the finetuning he was able to do, and his dispensers were now at least ten percent more efficient than they'd been when he'd still been living in the base with the rest of the men.  He'd even refined his regular guns – his shotgun, with a little added electronics, kept track of the kills his sentry made so he could make whoever _broke_ that sentry gun a _very sorry man._ He'd lovingly called the new gun 'the Frontier Justice', because it reminded him of the old frontier rule his grandfather had often quoted: 'if yeh take what's mine, ah'll come huntin' fer revenge one way or another'.

He'd also helped Pyro a little – or sat in on Pyro's own brainstorming sessions regarding his guns and offered help, which he supposed was a more accurate term.  The masked figure was still as great a mystery to him as before, but he did know more and more certain each day that the mask hid an exceptionally smart and ingenious person.  The pyro had managed to adjust his flaregun so the flares could be remotely detonated, making them explode in midair, and then there were the modifications he'd done on her flamethrower.  He still shuddered to consider how much quicker the enemy Spy had succumbed to the flames when Pyro had tested its new and aptly named _Backburner_ in battle.  And the way he'd found a way to 'upgrade' an oldfashioned fireaxe was even _more_ chill-invoking.  The pyro had seemed genuinely surprised when he'd asked the fireproof figure not to use his 'Axtinguisher' around him anymore because he'd had recurring nightmares of being tangled in barbed wire, but he'd instantly taken to using a large sledgehammer that seemed to have the added benefit of demolishing the spy's sappers while leaving his machinery unharmed.

“...Hhnnshhmm, thnnnrrrrr hhssh shhrrrphhhth!” (...Engie, dinner is served!), the masked figure exclaimed, walking into the living/dining room with a steaming pot that spread a near-divine smell of rich, creamy mushroom soup.  Engineer found his mouth watering from the smell alone, showing that he'd been lost in thought a little longer than he'd reckoned.

“Pah-ro, pardner, that smells mighty nice!  Y'outdid yerself again t'day – in battle an' in tha' there kitchen!”  As always when he gave the masked figure a compliment, the reply was a soft chuckle and a bit more grace in the gloved hands' gestures as soup was ladled into bowls for them to eat.  “...So, Pah-ro, how're yeh findin' livin' here?”, the southerner asked, grinning when his housemate answered in a stream of muffled but clearly excited words.

“...Hhhthsh khrrrth!  Hhh hhphnnnth phmmth thmmshh vhmmm rhhhshthmth hmn mmh hhhmmm mmph!  Hmmnth hhh khmmn phnnnmm khhmmkh phrrrrphrrrmm!  ...Hmnnth hhh mmmkh thm phh khmmsh thh hhhm... hmmrrr shhh shmmrrrth hnnn shhh thhhhthmm...” (It's great!  I haven't felt this well rested in my whole life!  And I can finally cook properly!  ...And I like to be close to you... you're so smart and so tidy...)  The masked figure sighed softly before nearly bringing a spoon to the gas mask's filter, realizing that that wouldn't work only when the utensil clinked against the plastic.  However, before taking his plate and moving to her own room, Pyro spoke up again softly, his tone airy but the emotion in it clear enough: “Vhhmmth hhphhhth hmm, Hhnnshmmm?  Hmmvh thmm hmm mmmkh shrrrnnnh hh hmmmshh vhmmmth mhhh?”  (What about you, Engie?  How do you like sharing a house with me?)

“Heh, shucks, pardner, ah like it well 'nough.  Still wish y'ain't felt like yeh had t'wear yer mask 'round me, but ah ain't complainin' none.  Yer cookin's amazing, yeh got a mind 's sharp as tha' there fireaxe'a yers, an' ah love yer paintin'.”, he said, indicating the oil painting that hung over the fireplace, depicting himself and the pyro both leaning against his dispenser.  It was still overly bright, but it was the closest to realism that the masked figure's art had come.  “It would'a made mah dad an' mah granddad real proud, seein' me drawn like tha'.”

“Hrrrr phhhthrrrr hmmmshhm shrrrphhhth, thnnnth hmm?” (Your father also served, didn't he?), the pyro asked, and Dell nodded, grinning.

“Yup!  He were a li'l younger 'n me when he signed on, though, but he ain't had eleven degrees, he jus' had three.  Back then, engineerin' studies came free with signin' on.  But hell, he made 'nough tuh send me t'university ten times over, even if'n he weren't 'round much when ah was a li'l Engie.”  He then gave his masked friend a weary grin and nudged his head at its plate.  “Now, why don't yeh head up t'yer room fer eatin' that, it'd be a mighty shame if'n it went cold-”  He halted abruptly when the pyro brought a slightly shaking hand up to the neckline of his suit, opening it slightly and then lifting the mask off the lower half of a face that looked surprisingly pale, revealing chapped lips that were virtually indistinguishable from the skin around them and the tip of a scarred nose.  “P-pardner?”, the engineer said, feeling awed and somewhat bashful, but the pyro started shovelling in the soup at top speed, only pausing occasionally to lick some off his – or her, because Engineer _still_ couldn't tell whether the facial features were male or female – lips before digging in again.  When the spoon clattered back into the empty plate, the mask was pulled back in place and the pyro sighed.

“Shhhhrrrrmm... P-phhhth hhrrrr rmmmmkhth, hhh shmmmthnnnnth hhmmmth phrrmmm hhhm...  Hhh phmmm mmmkh hhh khmmm thrrrrshhhth hmmm, Hhnnnshmm.  Hmmmshth... hmmmthmm phmm hmmthmm?”  (S-sorry...  B-but you're right, I shouldn't hide from you... I feel like I can trust you, Engie.  Just... little by little?)

“Little by little, pardner.”, the engineer admitted, clearing away the plates, still feeling flattered by the pyro's sudden bout of confidence.  He knew that the pyro didn't have many friends, and he was maybe at times a little clingy, but he or she was a sweet and bright person and that was all he'd need to know for the time being.  Looking at the painting the pyro had made once more, he suddenly got an idea to reward the pyro for his sudden confidence.

“...Want me t'read yeh a story?”


End file.
